


The Prince of Fall

by AlocadaWho



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:42:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26070580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlocadaWho/pseuds/AlocadaWho
Summary: A retelling of what happened way back when we met in a dusty dive bar and the one and a half decandes following
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)





	The Prince of Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The girl I named Annie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+girl+I+named+Annie).



Let's tell the story of how we met, then, shall we? This is how you usually start a story, giving the readers the chance to follow along, starting of before our life lines entangled in the most delicate way.  
I was too young to be there but just desperate enough and luckily I had company that was even younger and propably even more desperate. We were scarred kids, which surely was a poetic thing, but pain is not only beautiful, it is mostly also painful. When her and I met, we were both in a dark place, so we did what all those reckless heroines born from ink and imagination did: We went to America, rented a car and followed the road until we hit a bar.  
Looking back I can say she was in her most fragile state, desperate, as I said, visible for anyone older than twenty-five, but mysterious in the most attractive way for anyone younger than that. I was amazed by this mysterious fragility and absolutely willing to defend her with my blood. That's what you do when you're young, right? Find someone that you can love enough to teach you how to love yourself. Annie was that person for me. And, even though I like to convince myself otherwise anytime depression kicks in, I'm sure I was this person for her, too. We swore to have each others backs. We still hold on to that promise today, even though it got a bit lost in the crossfire somewhere on the road.  
Visually we were kind of contradictory, even though I was to insecure to take many looks into a reflecting surface. My hair was wild and dark while hers was thin and blond, her blue eyes were like morning skies over a firmament of freckles, while mine were even darker than my hair, lying under a pair of thick eyebrows. Her nose was a little hooked, mine was pointy, I was small and curvy, she was tall and, as I said, physically as well as mentally fragile.  
That night, the night we met, I was wearing some tight jeans over a loose band shirt combined with heeled boots, she had a flowy, laced dress with long sleeves on and honestly I forgot which shoes she wore with it. They surely weren't the centre of the narrative.  
It was a quiet bar on a Wednesday night, we had been on the road for about two weeks and had reached the eastern half of Iowa. The town we picked for a stop greeted us with acres of apple trees and a siren wailing ambulance hitting the highway. We chose the Motel with a witty name and a nice lady receptionist over the slightly cheaper one a crossroad further, left most of the luggage in the trunk and walked over to this place. 'The Lord's Pub' had some pool tables, an offer for every fith beer on the house and some decent music boxes, that played the edgier, grumpier country songs.  
I always felt uncomfortable in empty bars, even more so than in packed ones. Maybe it was part of the idea that you go out to lose track of yourself a little bit, searching for distraction, which isn't all too easy when no one is there to draw your attention.  
Annie just went for a third set of local beer when two guys walked in. I was in the middle of analyzing the menu to squeeze the tiniest amount of entertainment out of it, so I didn't notice them at first. Only as Annie slid into our booth, raising thin eyebrows as if something significant had happened, I saw you and your brother approaching the bartender.  
Broad-shouldered, tall guys in worn-out jackets, it didn't seem to be that significant, still Annies eyebrows insistend on something different.  
Obviously she didn't say a word to explain her reaction, but I even then knew her well enough to decyphre what she tried to say to me: She found at least one of them hot. Maybe it was two strong craft beers speaking, a third following in huge gulps, maybe it was honest attraction, who knows? This part of the story is one for her to tell.  
I grinned at her excitement, shook my head a little and tried to shift the conversation to something different.  
'We should go find some information on that apple farm tomorrow. Going apple picking is on almost every autumn bucket list out there. Maybe they have an offer.'  
'Yeah, or maybe we sneak in at night and robb their apples.'  
'Making illegal apple pie surely is something you find on a lot of autumn bucket lists as well.'  
'Exactly', Annie said in all drunk seriousness.  
We didn't care we didn't have kitchen let alone an oven to make that plans reality. We were busy exchanging silly ideas to cause the distraction this place lacked. Until one of the guys that had entered stood in front of us.  
'Hey', he said, with a bright and insecure smile.  
Annies shoulders shrank. So this one was the one she liked.  
'Hey', I answered to cover up her silent awe.  
Previously looking at my travel companion he then turned to me. He had messy, dark hair, yes, just as I had, but a lot shorter than mine, high cheekbones and astoundingly white teeth.  
'So ...', he started, seeming a bit unsure on how to approach whatever he wanted to tell us. '... me and my brother', he then continued, 'we're working for a college newspaper and are looking into some urban folklore of the area.'  
Obviously that's not something you expect coming out of a guys mouth when 'Pour Some Sugar on Me' plays in the background. I quickly turned my head to see where that mentioned brother had went. Apparently he was still talking to the bartender. That is, you were.  
'That sounds very interesting', Annie said in an overly polite tone.  
'Um, yeah', our intruder answered. He paused for a second, looking back and forth between the two of us.  
'Um, sorry, I'm Sam, by the way.'  
'Hi, Sam.' To my surprise Annie was way more capable of keeping this conversation going than I expected her to. In the next second she already slid a bit further into the booth and pat on the place next to her. 'Why don't you sit down and tell us about that project.'  
We were both already a little into writing, not with the confidence we now have, but still interested in a good story.  
'What kind of folklore have you been researching on?', I added, just because I felt a bit too quiet for a bit too long.  
'I'm Annie, by the way', my friend added, which made me blush, since obviously we had to introduce ourselves after he had told us his name. Once again too eager to say anything that I missed the most logical answer.  
'Um, I'm Anna, hi.'  
He chuckled. 'Annie and Anna. Is that a coincidence?'  
'How could it not be one?', I replied. 'It unfortunately makes it more unlikely for us to be sisters, so anything other would have been more in our favour.'  
Sam smiled a bit wider. 'Oh, I see.' He turned to Annie. 'Annie-thing, right. Sorry, you propably get that a lot.'  
'Occaisonally', Annie responded, playfully sarcastic. She wasn't mad at all, she was too intrigued by this strangers clumsy aura and sparky eyes.  
Trying to make his bad pun up with a even worse one, I searched for a way to incooporate "Sam-thing" and "Annie-thing" into a funny sentence.  
Before I could come with something remotely good, that previously mentioned brother turned his head and made his way over to us.  
You had not yet reached us that the message was clear: You gave of cool bad boy vibes in the way you moved like it was an overly heavy cologne. Contrary to your brother you didn't bother to introduce yourself. 'Yo, Sam', you just yelled, 'we gotta hit the drug stop. This guy just gave me some good info on what we're dealing with here.'  
This obviously didn't make sense to us, especially considering the newspaper-backstory.  
'Dean', Sam hissed, even though there were barely people in the bar to notice. 'Calm down a bit, would you?'  
'Yeah, sure, part-time-Romeo, get your ass out of that couch. C'mon, we don't need another school girl dead in the ditch.'  
Sam sighed and opened his mouth to maybe explain whatever the hell it was that all meant. He didn't seem to find the right words and just got up and muttered something along the lines of 'See you, have a nice night', before following you out of the place.  
Yes, this was the first time we met. This might seem like the typical opening to a lust-heavy, plot-thin romance novel, but to me it was just a weird encounter in a dive bar in Iowa that I would forget about within twentyfour hours. That's how we met. Calling the following a love story would be misleading, but it surely was our story.


End file.
